


Book One: Under the Mask

by DarkestChasm, SereneChaos216



Series: Masked [1]
Category: Watchmen (2009)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fanfiction, Friendship, Romance, Warning: Strong Language, Watchmen (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkestChasm/pseuds/DarkestChasm, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SereneChaos216/pseuds/SereneChaos216
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irene Dreiberg was Dan's little sister, but to him it was a sensitive and touchy subject to talk about even to his best friend, Rorschach. But when one day they both find out that Irene has been accused of murder, then suddenly ends up at Dan's door, will she join the Watchmen for safety or will she run away and never look back? Rated T for: Violence & Language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**October 20, 2008 - New York - Dardenne High School**

"Mom," the teacher mumbled. She had fiery red-orange hair and enchanting blue eyes. The old woman next to her waved her off with a laugh.

"Don't be so stiff! I'll be fine!" the old woman laughed lazily, her brown eyes shining. The old prune was sitting on a stool, but acting like it was a rocking chair and was swishing in it, so that one of the legs came off the ground when she rocked forward and backward. "Just because I'm an old bat don't mean I still don't have it in me. I was a hero, you know, a lousy yet still needed, hero." She finished cautiously, but then nodded, as if to assure herself she had said the right thing.

The orange haired woman sighed, and turned back to the rowdy class in front of her. "Alright class, settle down. You will get to go home in another forty-four minutes, so chill out! Everyone get out your planner, and write the date," the teacher boomed, her voice surprisingly loud for such a small person.

"What's today's date?" a kid in the back row asked.

"Today is the twentith... Okay anything anyone wants to share before we begin?"

"Ms. Dreiberg! Why is that old person here?" a different boy shouted from the crowd of kids squirming in their seats.

"I ain't old!" the old lady shouted, sticking out her chin. "And I have a name--Irene--use it," the granny spat, glaring at the class.

"Irene," a girl with black hair and green eyes began, "I think you should tell us why you're here, or else you'll lose the interest of the idiots in this class." Irene stopped glaring to give the girl a look. She didn't know how to feel about the punk-lookin kid's comment.

"Hey! Shut it, freak!" a dark skinned male yelled. The blackette glared her emerald eyes at the insulter and flipped him the bird, making sure the boy saw her scowl.

"Jenny," Ms. Dreiberg growled, giving Jenny a 'look.' Jenny scoffed, anger flaring in her eyes, and pointed at the black boy.

"James started it!" Jenny defended. James stuck her tongue out at her.

"Well, I'm ending it," Ms. Dreiberg retorted, then turned to the whole class. She cleared her throat and informed,  "My mother, Irene, will be with us for a month or two." She paused to let the information sink in, and make sure everyone was paying attention. "Since you are my most wonderful students that I get," Jenny grumbled something under her breath, "I will let you all hear this story. I will not show this to any other period because they can't handle it." Ms. Dreiberg then walked to the door of the classroom and stopped. "I have a quick thing to do, but if you do anything to Irene you will find yourself a spot in detention. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Ms. Dreiberg," the class stated in a monotone.

Ms. Dreiberg nodded awkwardly before waving to her class and leaving. "Dear God, please let my mom come out in one piece..." She knew how her kids acted when they got subs. It wasn't pretty either.

"Kay, children," Irene sang. "Now you shall all be quite and listen or else I duck tape your mouths closed."

"You can't do that!" James shouted, looking around him for people to start laughing. Of course, kids did, even though it sounded faker than mystery meat.

After a moment, a little girl wearing way to little clothing chimed, "Like, yeah! If you, like, touch me I'll, like, have my mom and, like, my dad, like, sue your ass." She looked around as well, and smiled when people let out some more laughs.

"That is a threat!" another boy yelled in the excitement of it all. Irene smiled, that was what she wanted someone to say.

"Ah, ah, ah, no, no, no." Irene put up a finger. "It was a _promise_ ," Irene purred, winking at the class. Irene, despite her smiles on the outside couldn't seem to fight the annoyance building inside of her. These children were too...much for her to handle. One, they were cursing freely, almost as if their parents never taught them manners, and second they were trying to act cool. These losers didn't even know what cool was from the looks of it.  
  
 _Mother forgive me,_ she thought.

"I, like, dare you," the girl with little clothing said.

"Stephanie, learn how to speak English before you dare anyone to do _anything_!" Jenny snapped. She was obviously irritated with the disrespect as well. Stephanie gave her a look of utter disgust, a look Jenny returned well.

"Shut up. No one, like, cares about a, like, creepy person, like, you." Cue anticipated hair flip.

Jenny rolled her eyes, and put her head in her hands. "Everything that comes out of your mouth is stupid, whore."

Stephanie scoffed and looked away, racking her pea brain for an insult, but James beat her to the finial blow. "Least she's can get  _something!_   No one would  _ever_  do a  _freak_  like you!"

"Guys, I wasn't kidding about the duck tape," Irene said dully over the threats and low blows from the students of the class to Jenny. Irene was ignored, though. Jenny glanced at Irene, as if begging for help, but it happened so fast the Irene thought she had imagined it.

"But I'm _not_ a slut. So I don't  _want_  any! Not like you prostitutes who would rather fuck up your lives on drugs and sex then learn something," Jenny retorted. Irene's eyebrows jumped up at Jenny's words, a small smile stretching to her lips.

 _You sound a lot like Rorschach. I like you,_ Irene thought.

"Suurrreeee..." one of Stephanie's 'friends' chided. "That's why I saw you, like, down all those, like, pills in the bathroom?"

Jenny growled, and shot around to face the kids behind her.  She snapped, "I have A.D.H.D. and am bipolar you  _idiots!_ "

"So?" James said, shaking his head. Jenny smacked her hand on her forehead, and sat down, holding her head trying to fight an oncoming headache. "She's cracking!"

"Guys?" Irene asked, getting out her huge roll of duck tape. "I recommend you shut up."

The class still ignored Irene, and shockingly Jenny as well, but Irene held nothing against her. The old granny decided she liked this fiery blackette.

"Why are you all such fuck ups?" Jenny screamed, rubbing her head brutally as more insults echoed around the room.

"Least were not so poor-" Irene, fed up with the lack of respect, stood up promptly. She ignored the boy as he continued to talk. "-that our family gave us up so they could-" Irene slammed the duck tape on the teacher's standard metal desk, then ripped off a long piece.

She was done listening. These kids obviously need a punishment of the sorts.

"Line up! You that were yelling _line_ _up_ , or I come to you."

The class was quiet for a moment, and at the same time James, Stephanie, Stephanie's friend, and Jenny stood up. They moved to the front of the class, making a blob in front of Irene. Irene shook her head at Jenny, giving her a warm smile. "Jenny, sit down."

Stephanie exploded, her arms flinging to her sides. "What! Why, like, does the-" Irene slapped the tape over Stephanie's mouth and in a flash tied her hands behind her back with the rest of the tape.

She, in the blink of an eye had the others in the same tight hold as Stephanie. _You don't just know this stuff,_ Irene thought. _It takes a special sort of friendship with Rorschach._  Irene smiled, thinking back on her once upon a time lover. At the same time, the class burst out laughing and the three kids with duck tape glared at Irene.

"What? Don't like your gift that I _gave_ you?" Irene asked. There was a bitter edge to her voice. Ms. Dreiberg walked back into the room, carrying a large stack of papers.

Ms. Dreiberg stopped short coming into the classroom, a look of horror coming over her face. " _MOM_!" she yelled running to the troublemakers. "Why did you do that?!" Ms. Dreiberg turned furiously to her mother, "This could cost me my  _job!_ What did they do?" Skillfully, Ms. Dreiberg ripped the duct tape from her students with one hand. She was careful not to hurt them.

"They bullied the only kid in this class whom I like. Right in front of me, too..." Irene lowered her voice. "They should be glad I _didn't_ bring my paddle."  
  
Ms. Dreiberg sighed, and introduced her hand to her forehead. "I will talk to you after class, mother," the orange head growled. Irene smiled, looking forward to it.

Ms. Dreiberg let out a deep breath, calming herself down so she didn't yell at her mother in front of the class.

"Well, class," the orange head said, facing the mass of students, "if she hadn't told you, Irene will be giving you an inside look on the Era of the Watchmen." The class groaned. "So for the next month or so she'll be here. I hope you all get along just fine. Remember she _is_ my mother. Now-"

A girl in the back rose her hand timidly, and Ms. Dreiberg nodded to her. "Uhm," the girl started, "weren't the Watchmen a group of vigilantes that terrorized the New York area a few generations ago?"

Irene's eyebrows again shot up in surprise, and she threw her head back in a laugh. "Oh, sweetie," Irene said, "you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then what were they?" she asked, her arms crossing.

Irene smiled, and a dreamy look washed over her face. "They were heroes. Handsome heros who always rescued me. I own all of them my life three times over. I would be long dead without them. They also never terrorized the New York area. They cleaned up crime better than any police officer."

"My father's a police officer."

"I'm sorry," Irene said, giving the girl a dull look. "You must be so disappointed."

The girl's mouth fell open. "He's great at his job! He says that the Watchmen were nothing but masked freaks trying to take the law into their own hands."

Irene narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything for a moment. "Let me ask you..." She paused, waiting for the child to give her name.

"Anne, my name's Anne."

"Okay, Anne. Let me ask you this. Anne, have you ever met a Watchmen? Have you ever talked or witnessed the good they did for New York? Of course, they sometimes left things in a bit of a...loop, but don't act like the cops don't do that either." Irene paused, letting a smile spread to her lips. "Don't worry child, everyone is entitled their own opinions. I know all of the Watchmen personally. They've hardly done anything to give them a bad reputation." In a sudden moment of realization, Irene growled, slapping her palm to her forehead. "Ah _shit_. Well, there _was_ the Comedian. No one liked him. I personally thought he was tolerable, but that's about it. Even so, he saved my life the most out of all of them." Irene closed her eyes. She was going to say more, but the bell stopped her.

 

 

_**DING DING DING DING DINGGGG** _

"Well, that's the bell, have a good day class!" Ms. Dreiberg called as her class left. Kids shot up from their seats, eager to get away from Irene, and shot her quick glances while passing.

Jenny stayed back, though, and waited for everyone to leave. Ms. Dreiberg was surprised to see Jenny approach them. "Thanks for embarrassing them, Irene. They think they rule the school, yet they have no idea how retarded they look," Jenny blurted. She looked away, not really knowing what reply to expect.  
  
To her delight, Irene let out a merry snort while she patted Jenny on the head.

"Kid," Irene said, "everyone is a moron, just in their own ways. But some are just to stupid and let it show in public." Jenny smiled and Irene winked at her. "Go to the bus, or where ever you're going," Irene said. She lightly guided Jenny to the door. Jenny waved 'bye' then disappeared around the corner.

Ms. Dreiberg sighed, and put her hands on her hips. She turned and face her mother, her face growing darker. Irene gave a nervous laugh. " _Mother_..." _  
_

**The Next Day**

The bell had rang about fifteen minutes ago, signaling the start of class. Irene was late, and she took advantage of it by strutting into the class. "Miss me?"

"Yeah..." the class muttered, not wanting to be duck taped or paddled.

"Good," she hopped up on the stool and took out a leather banded book, "because today we start number one of some entries."

The class let out groans, and some hit their head on their desk.

Irene glared at them, then slowly reached for her pocket. Something caught the light, and someone gasped, drawing the kids attention. Almost instantly the class erupted into, "Oh, yay! The book!" and "Just what I had wanted to do all day!" and "You go right ahead!" and "Yahoo!"

"There we go!" Irene cheered. "Now," Irene settled into her stool and sucked in a deep breath, " _January 12th, 1967. Leaving Donna's House..."_


	2. Chapter 2

**January 12, 1967 - New York - Leaving Donna's House**

"Are you  _sure_ you'll be alright?" Donna asked. She leaned her body up against the door frame. The stirring breeze from the semi busy street behind us blew her brown hair in every which direction, making her look ten times more beautiful. She was already gorgeous, even with her assumed average looks. But, I knew better. Just looking at her now, the brightness in her eyes, and the gorgeous small smile that stretched on her face, I knew she was going to grow into a remarkably beautiful woman.

I smiled at my friend. "It's not  _that_ far, Donna."

"True," she said, "but I don't want you to..." she trailed off looking over my head at the busy street behind me.

I waved her off. "I can get home just fine on my own."

Donna shifted on her heels, and rested her head on the door frame. The smile left her face. "The streets are just so dangerous at night with those guys in capes running around--"

"Those ' _guys in capes_ ' are the good guys," I interrupted, shooting her a dirty look. "You can blame them for whatever you want, Donna, but their status won't change."

"They're lunatics doing the police's job, Irene!" Donna spat. "They aren't doing  _justice_. Justice is the  _law_."

I held my tongue, and didn't say anything. Donna's father was a cop, therefore, she knew much more about laws than I did. She wanted to become someone of the law, just like him, and make his eyes light up with pride. Of course she was too blind to see that she could be nothing more than a housewife and her father would be proud of her.

That's what I liked most about Donna. She always shot for the stars to make the people around her happy. She was selfless, and kind, and she always brought me up. Well, unless it came to the vigilantes, she seemed to hate them with a burning passion. It was weird to see how much she seemed to despise the group of wannabe-heroes due to how kind to everyone she always was.

Donna's eyes caught mine. "Are you  _sure_ you don't want my father to drive you home?" She tilted forward, as if leaning forward would change my decision.

I nodded. "Yes, Donnacakes. I don't want your father to work more than he has to." Donna gave me a small, reluctant smile.

She sighed. "Well, if you insist on going home alone..." she trailed off, and bit her lip. 

"Of course I insist," I said. I stuck my tongue out at her. "Don't think I can handle myself, Donnacakes?" I teased.

"Oh gosh," she said with an eye roll. "Stop calling me that!" She gave me a playful shove.

"Donnacakes, Donnacakes, Donnacakes," I chanted childishly, putting my hands on my hips. Her face flushed, and she balled her fists up.

"Knock it off or I'll sock ya in the face!" Donna tried to screw up her face to look angry, but the look in her eyes gave her away and she couldn't seem to make her grin turn into a frown. I gave a hearty laugh, not at all intimidated by her.

"Who's messing with my daughter?" her father demanded, popping up behind her. Unlike Donna, he had black hair, not brown, and was far from childish. His voice was deep, and his eyes held a certain old wisdom that a child could never possess. He saw me and his eyes lit up in surprise. "Irene? I thought you left already. My, it's already nine-thirty. Should I call your parents?" He paused, shifting on his heels. "Better yet, do you need a ride home?" His head tilted to the side, looking at me hopefully.

I felt the color drain from my face as I shook my head. I didn't hear anything he had said after he told me the time.

I was dead.

I glanced down at Donna to see she, too, was pale. She gulped, her mouth presed into a line and I looked at her with desperate eyes.  _Don't tell him anything._  She had wanted to tell her father as soon as I'd confided in her all those years ago about what life was like at home, but I hadn't let her. Her father narrowed his eyes at my reaction, but dismissed it with raise of the eyebrow. I noticed that ever since then, though, her father watched me more closely every time he spoke of my  _home_. I never told him anything about my house or my parents, but I told Donna  _everything_. A part of me briefly wondered if she'd ever told him about my life at home, but another, the more rational part of me, knew that Donna would never go against her word or betray my trust.

"Well, then you best be getting home to your parents then," her father said. He flashed me a warm smile and then put his hand on Donna's shoulder. "I'll see ya around, Irene."  With that, he pulled Donna inside, and closed the front door.

I stayed there for a fleeting moment, staring at the step Donna had just been, before turning on my heel and bolting into the street. "I'm dead," I whispered. "Absolutely  _dead_. Oh God, Irene. Think!"

I walked down the crowded sidewalk. People slid by me like water, and the cars that zoomed in the street puffed exhaust that hung in the air. With a sigh, I picked up my pace and jogged to the end of the block where I stopped and scoped the area. "Even if I do go home, I'll be in a ton of trouble." I frowned at the thought of the trouble and then shook my head to clear the thoughts away. "Janet lives only a few blocks away, I could call my mother there, tell her I'm spending the night. She can't say no to that, even if it's a school night," I though aloud, already making my way to my friend's house. "Janet won't even mind me coming over, her mother loves me...Yes, that's the perfect choice." I sighed making my way across the busy street. I walked halfway down the block and then stopped in front of an alley way. "Question is," I whispered to myself, looking at the dark alley, "do I take a short cut through here, or walk around?" I snickered at the fact I even considered it, and made my way through the alley. "Nothing bad's going to happen to me. I'm just a random kid walking through a dark alley way. I'm not valuable. No one's going to mess with me," I muttered, reassuring myself and resisting the urge to move my eyes from any place but in front of me.

Surprisingly, the temperature seemed to drop in the alley way, and a stale, prominent smell of garbage and waste lingered in the air, burning my nostrils. It was dark, even though bright lights shined in on both sides. The alley was big enough that I could extend both of my arms and not hit the nasty walls. I walked back into the light of the street, and was a few feet from stepping out of the alley when a voice startled me. " _You_ ," it snarled.

"Darn it," I mumbled, turning to face the person had spoke.

I thought about just walking away, but the sight of a man made me stay. He was short and blonde. He had dirty, pale skin that was wrinkled with stress and scars and wore thin cloth clothing. He must have been freezing.

"I'm so sorry, sir," I said, my voice soft. " But I'm kind of in a hurry here..." I opened my mouth to offer him my jacket, but he moved faster than I though possible and grabbed my arm. I snapped my mouth shut, and winced at his tight hold. His grip was surprisingly strong even though the man looked weak.

"This is  _my_ alley way," he said. His voice resembled one of a madman. The man's dark eyes looked back and fourth between me and the well lit street. "What are you doing walking in it at this time of night?" I didn't answer. He shook me and gritted his teeth. "Why's a  _child_ walking around in my alley?"

I looked at the man, trying to look through him.

Was he on drugs?

"I was just trying to get home, sir," I whispered, afraid that if I raised my voice the man might do something terrible.

"Home? Where have you been all day, kid?" I flinched at this words, and my nose wrinkled at the smell of his horrid breath when he leaned closer to my face. His voice got louder. "Do you know what I have to do with you now?!" He gave me a dark look and his eyes narrowed in on me.

I gulped, finding that I couldn't seem to look away from his eyes. His mad, dark eyes.

"It's your fault I have to  _kill_ you."

I felt my mouth drop open, and I sputtered to say something. "Kill me?" I exclaimed. I felt my eyes crinkle with panic and my breathing picked up.  _What the hell?!_  "What the hell is wrong with you?" I grabbed my arm and tried to pull it from his grasp, but he was stronger than he looked. I let out a pained gasp when he tightened his grip on my arm. "Let me go!" I growled, glaring at him.

"I can't," he whispered, more to himself than me. He didn't even acknowledge my attempts at escaping and instead, looked around the dark alley; it was as if he was looking for something. His face slid into one of confusion as he continued to look around, dragging me away from the street and deeper into the alley. I struggled, but my efforts where in vain. "I can't let you go, kid. I'm sorry..."

"Help!" I screamed, looking at the people who passed by. They all seemed so wrapped up in their own lives that they didn't notice me or my screaming. "Help!  _Please!_  Someone!"

"They can't see you," the man said. "Not now that I've got a hold of you."

"What are you, some sort of magical ghost?" I spat, mocking him. I looked over at the people in the street and, again, yelled for help.

"No." The man laughed. It was a sickening sound. "Ghosts aren't  _real_ , and I'm very real. Only problem is that people don't care 'bout you. Not that I've got you, you're  _gone_." The man smiled proudly showing off his brown teeth. I cringed. "I just need my... _fix_ , and the boss only pays in blood." He looked around again, his eyes brows scrunching up.

I turned to look at the man, and then shook my head. "You're crazy." I shin kicked the man, and let out a disbelieving laugh as he let go of my arm like it burned him. His mouth opened in a shout, but, without another thought, I threw my hand out and punched the man straight in the jaw. Fearing the worst, I turned and ran out of the alley into the crowd of people.

And, being the idiot I am, I bolted through traffic and to the other side of the street, not caring about all of the horns honking at me and the insults. My breathes were coming out as pants even though I hadn't run far, and I turned around to see if the man had followed me, but there was no sign of him.

It was like he vanished.

Against my better judgement, I let out a laugh. He was  _gone_. I was safe.

With a deep breath, I turned around, ready to hustle it to Janet's, but as soon as I did, I ran full force into someone. I let out a yelp as I flew back, and a waterfall of papers came raining down on me. I let out a worried groan as my hands instantly started picking up papers. "Are you alright?" I asked the man sitting across from me.

He was short, I noticed. He was also covered in clothes that looked too thin to provide any warmth, and messy red hair that stood up on his head in every which way.He had blue eyes that were narrowed into slits as he glared at me. Even if he was small, he wasn't scrawny like the man in the alley. I could tell there was muscle under his shirt. He had a shadow of facial hair on the lower half of his face. I flinched away from his menacing look, but continued to pick up papers. His blue eyes were bright with annoyance. 

 _He is carrying so many papers._  "Sir?" The man was on his knees now, and he snatched the papers away from me.

"Don't need help," he growled. He picked the rest of the papers up with shaking hands and I stood up, offering him my hand.

"I'm  _so_ sorry," I said. He looked at my hand with disgust and stood up on his own. "I should have been looking where I was going..." I trailed off as the man walked by me, only grunting in response. At his lack of manners, the sorry in my stomach turned into anger. "Well screw you, too! Least you could do is  _say_ something!" I was going to flick him off, but I decided not to give this prick another moment of my precious life. I whirled around and stomped off in the direction of Janet's house.  
  
Little did I know that as I fumed away like a child, the man had leaned down to pick up a brown, worn wallet. My wallet. The man sighed, annoyed, and turned around to find me gone. He frowned, but found me a little aways ahead of him. Seeing me, he began to follow.

As I marched up Janet's street I stopped abruptly and let out a sudden stream of curses. "Janet's not even home--she left for France this afternoon! God, how could I have forgotten?" I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk with the dim streetlights not providing much light. I let out a sound that was between a growl and sigh and stomped my foot. "I'm dead! Just  _dead_!" I looked at the watch on my wrist and cringed at the time.

10:35.

"You got that right." I gasped at the sudden voice, and turned around just as hand shot out and latched onto the colar of my jacket. A huge man stepped into the dim light and he shoved me against the brick building I had been standing next to. I couldn't help it, I screamed. "Shut the  _fuck_ up." The man's hand slapped over my mouth, muffling my sounds. "Walk," he hissed, dragging his coat open slightly so I could get a good look at the handgun he had tucked in his belt.  
  
I shook my head. "I-I-I've got money, I-I'll pay you off. Money's only a-an obj-ect," I sputtered, my hand reaching for my wallet. My eyes widened as I stuffed my hand in my pocket and pulled out nothing. I tried my other pocket and shook my head again.  _No, this can't be happening!_  
  
The man smiled, as if amused by my rection. "The boss only pays in blood, girl. I'll try to make this intertesting." He chuckled, and for the second time tonight, I was disgusted by a laugh. "Now walk," the man repeated.

I gulped, and nodded. I was too stunned to speak.  _This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening._  I complied as he threw me from the wall and pushed me forward, my legs working as best as they could even though they shook like leaves, and my body reacted to what he told me to do.

We quickly turned into an alleyway and he started down toward the slum part of town. My eyes were watering, but both my mind and body were numb as hundreds of different - horrible- thoughts flooded in my mind. We kept walking, taking the dark alleyways and the occasional street, but the streets were different than from the area I lived.

The streets were completely empty, with no cars and the only other people out this late were those crowded around fires in metal barrels that had the toxic waste symbols faded on them. He led me into a ratty and abandoned apartment building that was obviously anything but stable, half of it being a victim of major fire damage. He forced me into the building and up a very wobbly set of stairs and into another dark passage way where he kicked down one of doors and pushed me inside.

My lips trembled and the tears that had stung in my eyes since he showed me the gun fell down my face as I began to connect the dots.  _This can't be happening. I don't want to die! No, I'm being irrational, this is probably something else. He's not just going to murder me in cold blood. He'll do something first, like ra...rape...me... I'll die like Alice,_  I thought.

I felt my heart rate spike as my breathing became difficult and before I knew it, I was hyperventilating. _I can't die now! I have school tomorrow! I have to see Donna again! I have to, I promised, didn't I? I always keep my promises._  I didn't even process that my captor had moved in front of me until the handgun was inches from my face. I choked on a breath, and inhaled the bitter scent of cold metal. _Oh, I'm going to vomit._  

And that's what I did.

I choked on another breath and then turned just as the contents of my stomach spilled from my mouth and onto the floor. The mess I made was small, the equivalent to how much I had eaten today. The bitter taste in my mouth and the stinging in my nose made my tears fall faster. I was already sick, and he hadn't even done anything yet.  _On the bright and dark side, I'm not going to puke again._

The man made a sound of disgust and snapped, "What kind of pathetic bitch are you? You're sick and we haven't even started." The man's hard voice made my stomach twist and squeeze. I gagged, but nothing came up.

I should have protested as he shook the gun in my face, and demanded I take my clothes off. I shouldn't have done what the man said. I should have stood my ground, but the gun in his hand took away all sense of fighting back. From what skin was exposed, I could tell he was white, with a masculine square jaw, and quite scrawny, even with his broad shoulders and tremendous height. He was easily 6 feet tall, and had shaggy gold hair that was sprinkled with dirty and smeared with grim. The room was too dark to come up with an eye color. His clammy hands grabbed my bare shoulders and spun me around. Then he held the tip of the gun to my back, just below my bra.

He wanted me to keep my under clothes on, that much registered.

"Walk," he hissed, and I did. I walked until he gripped my arm and pulled me into an apartment bedroom, slamming the door closed behind us. He then pushed me onto the dust covered, ratty mattress in the middle of the room. It was tainted in blood stains and a heavy, disgusting scent. I gagged again and let out a yelp when the man flopped on me, his lips and tongue all over my neck. I cried out in disgust and squirmed under him.

 _No! NO! I'd rather die! No!! Help me! Help!_  I cried mentally, knowing no one could hear me, but wishing someone could read my mind, hear my silent screams for help.

The man slid a short blade out of his back jean pocket and pressed it on my cheek bone, under my left eye. He dug it slightly into my skin, making a pinprick of blood bubble up. " _Stop_ ," he growled.

I went still under him. I stopped pushing him. I stopped making sound. If I could, I'd also have stopped my heart's beating.

He smiled at my frozen state and went back to molesting me. His ugly, disgusting hands where suddenly on my shoulders, pushing my bra straps down. I let out a gasping weep, but stayed as silent and still as I could.

"Take off your bra," he said. His voice was surprisingly gentle, but demanding.

I gave the man a confused look, the fear and intimidation not leaving me, but the question of his sudden gentlness startled me.

"Take off your bra!" he shouted, slamming his hand into the mattress right next to my head. I jumped at his sudden viciousness and my hands were behind me, working. I fumbled over the clamps, but then stopped moving.

 _I'd rather die than do this. Death would be better. I'd rather die. Maybe he'll kill me if I just...stop, I thought. I can't end like Alice. I can't disgrace her like that. I can't do that to her..._  I looked at the man with watery eyes.  _Not like Alice..._  With unexplainable boldness, I hissed, "I'd rather die."

My attacker's face twisted into a scowl, and I saw a flash of silver, and then there was a sharp pain on my neck. I gasped and felt confused, but I also knew what happened. The man on top of me grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked at it before slamming my head down into mattress. I screamed, again, but I didn't fight his hands. I was too busy applying pressure to my neck.

I was  _bleeding_!

 _He cut me. He cut my neck! I'm dying,_ I thought. My life's over, just like this. I let out a scream, unable to stop the wave of dread that overcame me. "Noooo!" I yelled. The man held the blade to my mouth, but I turned my face to the side and screamed again, in pain and in sadness and in furry. "Help," I wailed. "Help me, please!  _Someone_!" The man's blade scraped along the sides of my face in small cuts, nothing deep enough to scar like what he had done under my cheek, but deep enough to bleed as I moved my head side to side, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

It wasn't working. It was hopeless.

"Noo!" I sobbed, wishing I had just let Donna's father drive me home. Hell - even letting my  _parents_ pick me up would have been better than this.

"Shut  _up_ you bitch," the man hissed, dragging the blade down the side of my arm as he sat up on my waist. His hand rose, but never came down.

Just as he was about to stab me the already broken window burst into thousands of pieces. I let out a shocked scream and I slammed my eyes shut, but I heard the thick thud of a human body landing. The man on top of me started to curse, but stopped mid sentence because he was ripped off of me and into the wall where he and the window man began to punch and slash at each other. I heard a large crash, and the sicken sound of a bone snapping, but I ignored it. I sobbed harder and turned away from the violence, until a voice of reason told me that this was my chance to get away.

Listening to the voice, I tried to crawl away - towards the door - but a hand suddenly wrapped around my ankle, and yanked me off the bed onto the floor. I fell on my stomach with a breathless scream, and tried to get up, but the man straddled my back.

"Now, where were we?" he said, unclasping my bra.

My eyes widened in fear as the only thing keeping my dignity was then ripped off of me with a horrid  _SNAP_!

"No," I screamed, my arms suddenly pinned above me with him pressing his chest against my back and reaching under my body to start and molest my chest. "Kill me!  _Kill_ me!" I sobbed, willing my heart to stop so the feeling of the man's hands that kept roughly playing with my body would stop. Any thoughts of the window man were gone as I was flipped over on my back, exposing my breasts to the world. He lifted me up slightly and for a second I thought he was going to move me back to the bed, but then he slammed me back down, my head blasting the floor, sending my world into a spinning murk of muffled sound and blurred vision with stars and a never ending spin on the world.

I ceased in my struggling and furrowed my eyebrows, a numbness echoing in my body.

"Begging for death--" the man's cocky voice was cut off just as the man was tackled off of me, jerking me out of my clouded stupor and back into the ugly reality. My stinging, wet eyes crinkled in despair.

"I wasn't done," a voice rasped, the voice sounded cold and bitter, more like a growl than actual speech. But there was an obviously masculinity about it that sent me into panic while also making hope swell in my chest.

_Someone heard me! I'm not going to die! Oh God please..._

Again, I took my chance at getting away. I didn't even glance at the men brawling on the floor, instead throwing a hand over my exposed chest and tried to stand. Sadly, my body was in too much shock to be able to work properly and the blow to my head hadn't helped the nervous system function either, so I was back on the ground before I knew I had even fallen and gasping for as the world around me was again sent into a whirling mass of blurry colors and muffled sounds. I tried to blink away the stars and calm my body down so that I could focus on seeing correctly again, but to no avail.

I coughed and lifted my head to see the blurry outline of what might have been a shirt and grabbed it. I yanked the foul smelling shirt on and was about to make another try and that damned door when a pained shriek came from across the room. My head turned just in time to see the man who was going to rape me fall down, gasping like a fish out of water as his own knife stuck out of the middle of his hairy chest, just under his rib cage. I froze at the scene, shocked as the details of it slowly sunk in my mind as my vision cleared. 

I felt tears bubble in my eyes and my gaping mouth trembled at the sight of the dying man. Even if it was a terrible sight, I felt no sympathy, just hatred. I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting nothing more than the feeling of the man's hands to leave my body. That man had touched me. He had been so close to actually raping me... I felt more tears stream down my already wet face and made to wipe them away as I remembered that the knife didn't just lodge itself into the man's chest by itself, there was someone else in the room. But I was beat to it as gentle, gloved hands softly wiped the tears off my eyes.

I gasped, and backed away from the man. He didn't follow, and instead watched as I crawled away from him. "Don't," I wept, "don't...." I looked at the man's...face? I was caught off guard slightly as I watched the patterns shift and morph, then sucked in a quick breath. I knew who this was! I had read so many articles and sightings of this vigilante. While not my favorite of the Watchmen, he was still pretty damn close. "You." I shook my head, clearing my head. "N-no, not you..." This night continued to get worse. I felt so humiliated. 

This man was my hero, and here I was, bloody and weak in front of him.

_I'm so pathetic._

I can't even stand up. I hung my head, the feeling of being naked slamming into me full force as a breeze seeped into the room and floated through my shirt. I shivered, and attempted to climb to my feet, but I couldn't do it. I tried as hard as I could and even looked around the room for something to help me stand, but everything in the room looked dirty, and a part of me wanted to throw up just at the thought of touching something else my attacker had touched.

I noticed my hero stayed crouched, watching me with a slightly tilted head. He didn't make a move to come closer, he just watched me, not saying a word.

With a shaky breath, and stability that only being watched by a Watchmen gave me, I climbed to my feet on my own. I took a deep breath, and stood still for a moment, slightly swaying, until I gained the confidence to move. I tried to swallow the large lump in my throat, but I couldn't, and decided it would be best if I just moved. I stumbled forward but let out a groan as my legs gave out and I tumbled downward. My arms weren't quick enough to catch me and I crashed into the disgusting floor. I let out another groan, the pain in my head becoming unbearable. My sight faded in and out as I started to loose consciousness. The last thing I saw before it all went black was the masked man's feet walking toward me, and then his knee as he kneeled down next to my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh...I was just rereading this chapter, and I saw that I have this story at T, but should I move the rating up? Or is this appropriate for 13+? I don't know, because I live in a household were these topics were discussed and brought up when I was really young so I was aware of them. My parents wanted me informed, and my parents were always okay with showing me shows and movies with these types of graphic actions because they wanted to teach me life lessons while I watched them. Is it like that for a lot of people nowadays or should I raise the rating because my parents didn't know what they were doing letting a 9 year old watch these kinda things? Should 13+ year olds nowadays already be mature enough to handle these kinds of topics? What do you, the reader, think? I think I should raise the rating to be on the safe side, but I do have warnings... I just don't know...  
> Opinions? Comments? Thoughts? Ideas? Flames? Praise? I've got a comment box below so you can contribute in anyway you'd like. Have a nice day. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**October 21, 2008 - New York - Dardenne High School**

Ms. Dreiberg looked at her mother with a careful expression. She'd never known what kind of things her mother had gone through with her earlier years. Her mother had never brought that topic up, but had always gone out of her way to avoid certain parts of New York, and keep away danger as best as she could. To think if Ms. Dreiberg hadn't been left at that farm all of those years ago, she might not be the kind person she was today... It made Ms. Dreiberg love her mother even more. And to see her mother with that look on her face as she reread the passage made Ms. Dreiberg's heart squeeze.

Irene sat silently on the stool. The memories of those events were scarring. She couldn't remember much of the past due to her terrible memory, but rereading the words she had written all of those years ago frightened her. She really had almost gone through one of world's worst horrors. Slowly it dawned on her that Rorschach really had saved her more times than she could remember. He had always been there when she needed him to be, even if he wasn't always there when she wanted him to be. A small smile stretched to her old lips and slowly her hand moved up to trace the scar on her neck. She missed him so much. Had he not died all that time ago, maybe they'd be here today together. Maybe not as lovers, but as friends. _Really good friends..._

Ms. Dreiberg and Irene were snapped back to reality when some kids started to fidget in their seats. Ms. Dreiberg sighed, knowing she needed something to keep the energetic students busy. She mulled over the things that her kids had recently been going over as she moved from behind her desk to the front board. "Okay class, today you must write a summary of what Mrs. Irene has shared with you up until this point." She wrote down the requirements on the board as she said them. "It must contain at _least_  half a page of writing. Has to have more than one sentence... Make sure to have no grammar errors, and it must contain have a topic and conclusion sentence." When she got done writing she turned and smiled at the class, even though it was forced. "You have ten minutes to complete this activity. Take this seriously because stuff like this will be on your test at the end of the quarter. Consider this practice."

Irene looked at her daughter as she stood there looking like the woman Irene had hoped she'd become. She was beautiful, and independent, and not to mention a good leader. Irene's heart warmed. Not only was she her own little woman, her daughter reminded Irene of Walter in subtle ways. Her fiery red hair, her blue eyes that held the presence of knowledge, and her present aura that said, "I'm here to help." Irene's heart clenched as she looked at her daughter, half from pride, half from pain.

It took a few minutes, but Irene snapped herself out of her own little trance and began to move around the room. She looked over people's papers, curious as to what they might say. Some of the papers were better than she would have imagined. She went to the back of the class first and stared at the paper that stated in messy, giant letters, "THIS WAS ABOUT A GIRL THAT ABOUT GOT RAPED AND IT WAS PREVENTED BY A CREEPER IN A MASK AND TRENCH COAT." She looked at the boy who wrote it, and was surprised to see him glaring down at his paper and glancing at the paper the boy in the next seat was writing. He hadn't even noticed Irene looking down on his paper. Curiously, Irene moved around the boy to also stare at the other boy's paper. He already had half a page written with scribbly cursive that took a moment for Irene to decipher, but once she did, she was shocked at how well the boy wrote. The boy finally noticed Irene and looked at Irene's awed face as she stared at the other boy's paper. His face crumpled. He wanted to be a better writer, but he couldn't figure out how to summarize the passage any other way. _There was a girl,_ he thought, looking over his paper. _She almost got raped...but it was prevented by a masked creeper in a trench coat_. He looked over at his fellow classmates paper and his dismay grew as the boy kept on writing and writing. _But there's no more to it. That's what it was about. How...how do you get more out of the story than that...?_

Irene saw the boy's frustration and looked back at his as he glared at his classmates long essay-like paper. She didn't pity him. _One sentence?_ she thought, looking up at the board. _He at least has to have three--which isn't hard considering I gave him so much to summarize._  Irene sighed, and walked on, looking at the other papers. Most people used regular lined paper and wrote bigger than normal to fill make sure they could cheat their way out of writing more than they had to. It almost disappointed Irene, but in a way, she had been expecting kids to slack off like this. They were kids, and if she had to do the same thing, she'd be slacking off too. _But that one kid..._ Irene shook her head to try and clear her rude thoughts. She'd talk to her daughter about it later.

Just as the ten minutes faded to five, then to two Irene managed to migrate to Jenny's desk. Jenny had gotten done after the first five minutes and pulled out a book to read. Irene ignored Jenny's book and snatched the blackette's paper from her desk. She read over it, and smiled. Jenny's writing style, surprisingly, was very formal and mature. Irene looked back at Jenny, who like the boy, didn't notice she was there. "You wrote an excellent summery, Jenny," she said. "I couldn't have put it better myself." Jenny jumped, and slammed her book closed, looking at Irene with wide eyes.

"You read my work without my permission?" Jenny asked, ignoring Irene compliment. The blackette felt self conscious, considering that her writing had always seemed like a personal thing to her.

Irene shrugged. "Well you certainly didn't stop me, now did you?"

Jenny made to reply, but the bell rang, and kids jumped to their feet.  Before they could go though, Ms. Dreiberg yelled, "Sit down! The bell doesn't dismiss you, I dismiss you. Sit! Sit! Sit!" Grumpily kids plopped down in their seats and looked at Ms. Dreiberg. "Now, kidos, pass your papers forward! You will receive a grade out of...oh five points. Don't take this grade lightly. I won't be giving you much class work," she warned.

When all of the papers were passed to her Ms. Dreiberg waited a moment, smiling at her kids and then she dismissed them, all smiles and giggles. When it was only Irene and Ms. Dreiberg in the room, Irene sat down in her chair and put her head in her hands. "Oh Lucy, I don't know what I'm going to do..."

Ms. Dreiberg wrapped her arms around her mother and whispered, "You're going to move past this. Remember what we agreed upon? You were going to help me with this whole Watchmen thing, and I was going to help you get over it. Mother, we can do this together."

Irene sniffed, her face still covered by her hands and she said, "I think the only thing that the only cure for what I'm feeling is..." Lucy leaned in to hear her mother's words, wanting to not miss a thing. "...is grandchildren."

Lucy pulled away from her mother with an insane eye roll. " _Mother_." Lucy paced around the room, irritated. "Here I thought you were going to be serious when saying you need help, and you try and change the topic. I can't believe you. You always do this. I try to focus on you, and you change the topic back to me. It's...it's...I can't even say what it is. I feel...feel...ready to..." Lucy clenched her fists and then sat down at her desk. With a frustrated sigh, she dropped her head onto the desk top.

Irene watched her silently, and after a moment, spoke. "I am serious. I haven't gotten anything out of you--"

"I'm not your _only_ kid, mother. Why don't you ever visit Victoria and her children, hmm? I'm pretty sure they'd love to see you."

"Her kids only want money from me. That's all they care about. And I swear, it runs in the family." Irene's lips curled in disgust.

Lucy's eyes brightened with anger. "It's not her _fault_!" Lucy exploded, startling Irene. "You can't continue to blame her for things that were out of her control!"

Irene shot up, her mouth open and ready to fire off. Irene marched up to Lucy as she hissed, "Just because you're an adult, Lucy Alice Dreiberg, doesn't mean I'm not your mother. I brought you into this world, don't think I won't take you out." Irene sucked in an angry breath. "I do not blame Victoria for _that._  I blame her father, and her _mother_." Irene's face curled with disgust on the word mother. "Her mother was a nasty whore, and her father is no better."

"Just because she's not your flesh and blood doesn't make her not your own. Irene--"

"I'm your _mother_ ," Irene snapped, glaring at her daughter.

"Sorry, mother, it's a force of habit. But, I know dad. He may have made a few bad choices, but he loves you--only you."

"I know that."

"Victoria is a part of him and you need to at least _try_ to get over yourself." Irene was about to snap at her daughter, but Lucy cut her off. "All I'm saying is to try. You owe her that much."

"I owe them nothing. I gave Victoria eighteen dedicated years of mother ship and that--that--that _bitch_ shows up last minute and takes her away."

"I know what happened!" Lucy's hands waved around as she spoke. "I was there! Remember? It isn't all about you! _This_ isn't all about you! This is about Victoria! Think of her, and her children. They want to see their grandma." Lucy paused. "Think of dad. How long has it been since you've been to see him?"

Irene snorted. "I went yesterday. He's doing fine."

Their voices were getting softer.

Lucy closed her eyes. "What did you say to him?"

Irene looked down and ran a hand through her gray hair. "I told him I loved him." She shook her head. "I told him I'd be there to the end." Irene's face hardened. "And unlike him, I keep my promises."

Lucy nodded. "He made one mistake." Irene's face hardened.

"It wasn't only _once_ ," Irene hissed, looking away, her face heavy with shame. "He did it more like several times over the years..."

Lucy shot up. "Recently? And you haven't told me this _because_? Does Victoria know?" Lucy pushed away from her desk and grabbed her mother's arm, suddenly calm. "Let's discuss this somewhere else. I don't feel comfortable bringing personal problems in my work place." Lucy's face darkened. "I also don't like discussing _whores_ in a school. Makes me feel dirty."

Irene sighed, and pattered her daughter's hand, letting her drag her away. "I'm in the mood for smoothies, my treat."

"Mother--"

" _My_ treat." Irene smiled, a small smile and pulled out a little plastic card from her pocket. "Or should I say your father's?"

Lucy shook her head, but couldn't help but smile. She sighed and said, "You're so..."

"Perfect?"

" _Diabolical_."

Irene looked almost hurt for a moment, but Lucy ignored it. The look faded away, and melted into a smile. Irene pinched Lucy's cheek. "Always so much like your father."

Lucy rolled her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**January 14, 1967 - New York - Hospital**

I had been awake for hours, I knew that much. I didn't want to open my eyes. I didn't want to see what could have been the worst thing I could imagine.

A hospital.

A place that costed too much money. A place where there is no such thing as peace and quiet. A place that always smells of death or disaster. There is nothing good about a hospital. And I knew better than anyone that I was fine. I was just fine. I could see from both eyes. I could move all of my toes, fingers, and other important body parts. I was breathing normally. My heartbeat was steady. None of my senses seemed to be working funny, or slow.

Why was I still here?

What where they keeping me for?

There was a soft knock on the door, and I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, just incase it was a doctor. Of course, it wasn't. I could tell by the hesitant steps that this person was no doctor. I knew it was Donna. She had a comforting aura around her that I could feel. It was like her compassion rolled off of her in waves. I relaxed more when she fell into the chair beside the hospital bed.

"Irene?" she whispered.

I didn't respond, and I could almost feel her tear up.

She choked. "I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, pulling my hand to her lips and kissing it. "I'm just so sorry. It's all my fault." Hearing her cry made something snap inside of me.

"Donna," I whispered, scowling at how raspy my voice sounded. I opened my eyes to see Donna's puffy eyes, unkept hair, and the guilt planted on her face. I looked away, not able to look at her. She was crying because of me. "You're so stupid."

Donna was silent for a second, and then she giggled. "The first thing you say...you _insult_ me." She was quiet for a moment, then suddenly fell on top of me. "I didn't ever think I'd be so happy to hear you call me stupid." She giggled again and wiped her eyes. "The doctors said you wouldn't be awake for a couple more days. You got a nasty blow to your head."

I groaned, and looked back over my friend's face, putting a hand on her lower back to give a slight pat. "Yeah? Well the doctors here are stupid. It's nothing."

Donna smiled and pulled away. She grabbed my hand as she settled back down into the chair next to me. "I don't think you know how much I missed your negativity."

"I don't know, you seem to be negative enough for the both of us." I stared at her, watching for her reaction. Her smile got smaller, her eyes hazier. "It wasn't your fault. Don't be stupid. You didn't do this to me."

"Yes it was. Had I just--"

"What?" I snapped. "Predicted the future?" My voice softened. "If I can recall correctly, I had refused to let you take me home. Therefore, this is _my_ fault." I stuck my chin in the air and sniffed. "My fault Donna. End of discussion."

"But--"

"I said--"

"I know what you said," Donna snapped.

I narrowed my eyes at my friend and slowly said, "End of discussion."

Donna fumed for a moment before her shoulders crumpled and she began to cry again. "Oh my God, if you do this to me again, I'm going to be the one who kills you. Do you understand me, Irene?"

I softened my features as I watched Donna cry over my hand, putting it to her cheek, cherishing it's warmth. The sign that I was alive.

"I can't lose my best friend." She sucked in a big breath and shook her head. "I hate you."

I flinched at how harshly her words had came out of her mouth, but it took me a second to realize that I was laughing. Of course she'd say something selfish at a time like this. The always-selfless-when-it-doesn't-matter Donna chooses to say something so selfish when all I needed was to be there for _me_.

The irony made me laugh, but I couldn't blame her. I'd say the same thing in her position.

I'd hate Donna if the roles had be switched. I'd hate her recklessness, her foolishness, and how I hadn't forced her into the car to let me take her home.

I'd hate myself, just like she hates herself.

**~ x - X - x ~**

It was night time now. Donna had gone home, and I'd fallen asleep shortly after she had left. But, six hours later, something had startled me out of my sleep.

I looked around sleepily, suddenly aware of how cold it was in the room. I looked to the window just as a gust of wind blew and pushed away the standard white hospital curtain to allow yellow light to illuminate a dark figure leaning on the wall opposite of the bed.

I was startled to see someone in my room, and I almost screamed, but I was too terrified to make a sound other than a wheeze. The breath caught in my throat as the man stared evenly at me, face morphing in sinister shapes then back to darkness as the curtain cut off the light source.

Then I just heard his gruff voice. "The man who attacked you was part of new drug deal." The masked man paused, and I heard him shift; clothes rustling and shoes unsticking themselves from the floor as if they had been there for a long time. "Broke out of prison with others last night. Came to warn you. He'll most likely try to somethin."

He made his way to the window and was about to stick a leg out when I snapped out of my fearful daze, and hissed, "W-wait!" He didn't turn around, but his head slightly turned towards me. The words caught in my throat, but I managed to force them out. "W-what--how do I pre-prevent it?" I cursed myself mentally for stuttering, but I felt so small and powerless next to this man. If he noticed though, he didn't show it. Instead, he looked forward, and for a split second, I thought he was going to say something heroic and cheesy like, " _I'll save you._ "

But instead, all he said was, "You don't." And then he was gone.

It took me a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did, I started crying. I felt hopeless. What was I supposed to do? How was I to defend myself when I didn't know the first thing about self defense?


	5. Chapter 5

**January 15, 1967 - New York - Hospital**

When I woke up the next morning, it was almost unreal. I felt on edge, even only half awake. It was a feeling I'd loved to get rid of, but sleep called for me, and my mind kept whirling, trying to conjure up a plan of action if I was attacked. At one point, I'd given up trying to think of anything, and shrugged it off, thinking that the police would keep me safe. But...then a few minutes ticked by, and I was hopeless as to thinking of something that the police could do. If these guys were slipping through one of the Watchmen's fingers, then the police wouldn't be able to handle it at all.

At noon, I was put at ease by seeing Donna. She'd come in, all shy and beautiful, and happy to see me. She looked much better than she did the day before. Turned out she had went home and slept off her anger towards me, but I could see, after a while, that she was mad at herself. She still blamed herself. It tore me up to see her like that, and so much so that I told her I was tired just to get her to leave. We'd talked for hours, and it was almost time to visiting hours to be over. Other than Donna, I wasn't expecting anyone, but, to my surprise, there was a knock on my door. The noise startled me and I almost screamed, but instead I just gasped. Cautiously, I had called out, "Yes? You may come in."

When the door opened, I was surprised and embarrassed to see Donna's father in the doorway. "I just wanted to check up on you kiddo," he said in his warm fatherly voice. It made me smile to address me so kindly.

"Thanks," I said. "The doctors said that I can leave soon. I plan on getting out of here fast, and getting back to school as soon as possible. I miss doing something during the day."

Donna's father chuckled at that. "I see you're still as anxious as ever," he said. But his words, while meaning to be a joke, brought back up the worry I had forgotten when I'd first saw him. What if someone tries to get me? Donna's father noticed this, and fell quiet for a moment. "Ya know..." he said, getting my attention, "you may not feel safe, dear, but I can assure that you are. I took the liberty of switching my positions to here at the hospital so that way I could keep an eye on you."

I let out a humorless chuckle. "Did Donna talk you into it?"

Donna's father shrugged and then nodded. "Yeah...She worried about you. She thinks what happened was her fault." Her father looked down. "But she can't be blamed, and neither can you. You're both not at fault." He gave me serious eyes that were filled with fatherly affection. Affection I knew little of. "I hope you know that." He stepped into the room, slowly at first, but then came over and sat at the side of my bed. "You may not be my daughter, Irene, but you're Donna's most precious friend, and she means everything to me and you mean everything to her. That means that you're someone that I'd die to protect. I just want you to know that." Donna's father took my hand and kissed it, suddenly uncomfortable. "Good night, Irene."

I smiled, ignoring the sting in my eyes as he left. "Good night." When he was gone, a few tears fell. They weren't tears of pain or sadness, but of happiness, because that was the nicest thing any adult had ever said to me.

**~ x - X - x ~**

Three days. I'd sat in the damn hospital for three days with nothing. I had started to begin to think that that Watchmen guy had just been punking me, but it was that afternoon, when I realized he wasn't. It started with my food. My soup hadn't smelled right, and so I'd taken a tiny little bit of it before going to the bathroom to choke it up. Later, though, was when the signs were too clear. I'd sworn I'd saw the guy from the alley almost every time I'd look out my litte window, but once I blinked, he be gone. It set me on edge. I still had no idea what to do if something happened. Would the Watchmen save me? Was I truly safe in this hospital? Not only that, but Donna's father hadn't stopped by. He had made it his job to come by at least once every few hours, but he didn't show up after I saw the man from the alley. At first, I'd figured that he was running late, and he would be there soon enough, but after three hours of being awake, and him being a no show, I was genuinely worried.

The doctors protested me walking just yet, but I hardly listened to them. I walked myself to the bathroom, and when Donna came by, I had her help me walk around. I'd tripped a couple of times, sure, but that was no big deal. I didn't tell Donna about her father not showing up. Instead, I sent her home after a few hours, telling her that she might want to get dinner started for her father. She was hesitant to go, but I had insisted.

It was around midnight when they struck. I was snuggled nicely up in the hospital bed when the covers were suddenly ripped off of me. I shot up in the bed, fully awake, only for a hand to smash my lips, smothering my screams for help. A deep, familiar voice hissed, "Shut up!" I stopped struggling against him instantly and tried to focus my eyes to the dark of the room. The window was open again, and the curtains blew casually behind the masked man. "They're here," he said. With that, he removed his hand from my mouth.

I nodded, anger bubbling. "Well, what the hell," I snapped. The masked man's head tilted sideways as if I was lighting the short wic of his patience. But that didn't stop me. I was too tired, and cloudy minded to understand what was going on other than this stranger in a mask had just ripped off my blanket. "I was sleeping," I continued. "If you want to wake me up--wake _anyone_ up, just give them a shake. A _shake_. Don't act like you're going to attack them, it's just..." I sighed, rubbing at my eyes, ignoring the masked man who was ignoring me. "...less effort for everybody." I yawned.

"Stay awake. We're leaving," he said. I just nodded, perfectly okay with the thought of leaving the hospital, but then he grabbed my arm and yanked me off the bed. I let out an angry huff at his rough treatment, but before I could make another sound, my eyes caught site of the door's window. It was the man from the alley. He was right outside the door. In an act of cowardice, I ducked behind the masked man. He didn't even seem to notice me. He kept an eye on the man who stood right outside our door, instead. "He's here. You were too slow."

I was suddenly more awake, the danger of the situation making my pulse spike. I pointed at the door. "L-lock the door!" I hissed, backing away until I hit the wall. I glanced at the open window next to me and then back at masked man. "Do it!" I hissed.

"He has key," he growled. Those words made me feel more helpless than I already was. We both looked at each other, my face twisted with fear, his twisted with irritation. Then we both looked at the door as the man from the alley smiled through the window.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**January 15, 1967 - New York - Hospital**

A chilly breath swept into the room from the window. Helplessly, I trembled. The overwhelming feeling of dread flood into my system clogging senses, making everything fuzzy. "Out." The masked man's hands strangled into fists, then glanced back at me. " _Go_." He didn't have to tell me a third time. I was out of the window onto the fire escape just as the man from the alley started to try and turn the door handle. Finding it locked he took out the keys to unlock it. I stopped and looked back at the masked man, but his back was to me. He was going to fight this man. That fact sobered me enough to hesitate to leave. I wanted to help, but I knew I would just be a burden.

Just as I was about to turn away, the door burst open, and the man who almost raped me walked in with the man from the alley. Both men were breathing heavy, excited to see both the masked man and I together. They looked at us with crazy eyes, ready to kill. The surprise I felt when seeing them, together and free, and merely fifteen feet away made me freeze. They were here kill me. I wished at the moment that I was less of a coward. I wished that I could be Silk Spectre, and not have to be afraid of big bad men. But at that moment in time, one of the few moments in time where time seemed to stop, I got a good, long look at the man who had tried to strip away my purity. His very presence made my gut twist tightly, but I made myself face him, look at him. He looked back, and took pleasure in my fear. He was a monster. If the masked man didn't, I vowed, I would kill him.

No one said anything, but the two men merely glanced at each other, and then stepped forward. And before I knew it, they all were fighting. The masked man's fist smashed into man from the alley just as the rapist's arms came down in a powerful swing on the masked man's back. Needless to say, he fell like a rock to the ground. It was over like it started. In a flash. With the masked man temporarily out of order, the two men's attention snapped onto me. I let out a scream when they moved towards me, and looked around for something to defend myself with, but there was nothing. Only chilly night air and the sound of passing cars on the street.

Their noses scrunched as if they could smell the dread I felt. The man from the alley asked, "What do we do with him?" He kicked the masked man in the side.

The other one sneered, "Kill em." His voice was nauseating.

The man from the alley laughed as he pulled out a knife. "He will be pleased."

"Yeah, not as pleased as when we bring _her_ in," the rapist said. He licked his lips. My knees shook. My screamed for me to run, but I was locked in place. "Maybe we still have a bit of time--" Before he could get another word out, there was a growl, and the masked man kicked the knife away from the man from the alley. Then he kicked the man right in the chest, making him shoot back into the wall. His head made a loud cracking noise as it hit.

With that guy out of the way, the masked man went for the rapist. They both swung and missed, but the masked man grabbed the rapist's arm and twisted until it made a nasty snap. The masked man pushed the rapist down, then turned just as the man from the alley ran at him. Somehow, he'd managed to pick back up the knife, and he swung at the masked man. The masked man, after dodging a few swipes, knocked the knife out of his hand and made to punch him. The alley creep caught his arm and gave him a yank to get him off balance. In a blur the man from the alley's knee was shooting towards the masked man. The masked man grunted as the knee smashed into his core. His body bent unnaturally inward and unable to help it, I let out a scream, and stumbled backwards until my back hit the railing of the fire escape. A loud groan came from the metal seconds after I hit it. Then it shook. All three men's eyes found a way to me and just as another loud groan sounded from the fire escape, I glanced behind me to see another fire escape on the building behind me. _I can't make it,_ I thought. But then I looked down and noticed a level or two down had a larger, wider platform. Without a second's hesitation, I ran to the hole in the metal and, as quickly as I could, stepped down the ladder leading to the next floor.

I had made it halfway down the second ladder when the fire escape shook fiercely. Not expecting such a rough shake, I lost my grip on the ladder. I landed on my back with a bang, and I lost all of my breath. The world spun and I was unable to move for a moment, but the sound of thundering feet and squeaking metal made my pulse spike. I was quickly back on my feet, unable to stomach the thought of meeting alley-guy or the rapist again. But as their feet thundered, a small groan slowly got louder as the fire escape slowly lost the ability to support so much weight. Knowing I only had a few seconds of stability left, I bolted for the side. Before I could second guess myself I launched myself over the railing.

My fingers spread with the anticipation of catching the metal. My hair blew into my face, and I slammed my eyes closed, thinking the worst. My heart dropped because I knew this wasn't going to end well, but with a loud bang and serious amount of pain in my chest, I hit the other fire escape, and my hands wrapped around the bars, even as my chest bounced against the rail. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and peeled my eyes open. I hung for a moment, wrapped in my own bubble of relief. But the moment was fleeting because next there was a boot next to my hand and a rough shake as someone jumped onto the fire escape. I jumped out of my skin, my hand coming off of the railing for a second before it slapped back on. I let out a scream of effort.

But I didn't have my grip anymore.

My fingers fought to keep from slipping, but the more I adjusted my grip, the easier they slipped until I finally lost all friction and my hands slipped like water. I let out a cry as I fell down, and another as someone's hand snagged my wrist. My body slammed into the railing and then I was hauled up and over and thrown into the brick wall of the building beside the hospital. I let out a sob as pain seemed to buzz all over my body for different reasons. It felt good to cry, to let tears drip down my hot cheeks. My chest ached, my face pulsed, and my arm felt like it was bleeding. I looked up to see who had pulled me up and over, and frowned when I saw the masked man. He was looking down at me, hesitant to help, to say something, to do anything. This was his fault.

"You suck at your job," I hissed. "This is your fault." The man said nothing because he wasn't given a chance to. There was a growl, and a hiss from the other side of the street, the other fire escape, and both of our eyes widened as we watched the man from the alley run, his boots smashing down on the fire escape, to the edge and jump. The masked man stepped back, putting himself between me and the man, but then winced when the other guy fell a few feet short of the fire escape and dropped down into the alley. I let out a choked scream when I heard the nasty, wet thud that followed only a few seconds later. "Oh my God," I breathed. The masked man hummed and looked over the railing. He didn't look away from the street below for a while. After a few tense moments, I blew out a large breath, but it only soothed my anxiety for a few seconds. I tried to speak, but my voice wouldn't come. I waited a moment, letting the site of him missing the rail sink in before I tried again. My voice was louder this time, and it shook. "Is he...is he...?"

That snapped him out of it. He glanced at me, then back down at the street below before he walked over and pulled me up. I clenched my jaw to keep from yelling at him and gave him a look as he dragged me to the railing. I looked up at him, begging him with my eyes to not make me see this, but he let out a small growl and focused on the ground below. So I looked, too. At first, all I saw was what I thought was a sleeping hobo, and I felt better, but then I noticed that he was too still and there was...something flowing...blood. So much blood. With a horrified gasp, I looked at the masked man before more tears filled my eyes. "Why?"

The man didn't respond for a long time. Minutes, or seconds, I couldn't be sure, but the time dragged on painfully slow as I watched him think about it. "He deserved it."

I choked on a breath and hugged myself. Unable to control any of my emotions anymore I let out a cry. "Thank you," I whispered. I looked back down at the dead man below knowing that could have been me. My insides shook. "I'm so sorry. Thank you." Somehow I knew he didn't want my thanks.


	7. Chapter 7

**January 17, 1967 - New York - Home**

I didn't have to open my eyes, so I didn't. Instead I'm met with a sharp pinch from my arm, and then a flood of pain screws with my brain. I'm instantly miserable. "Oh, my God," I whimper. "Fuck." This gets me to open my eyes. I try to sit up but there's a sharp pain in my side, and I let out a small yelp. The yelp startles someone outside of my door, and with a shuffle of feet my door is jerked open. A man stands in the doorway. He's wearing huge, dorky glasses and a dirty polo shirt that he's tucked into his pants. He looks nervous, like he's not sure what to do. My brother is stupid. " _Ah_ , help me," I whined. "I've got a headache." He pushed the door open and and crosses the room.

I don't move, and he doesn't talk. I let him fumble over things noisily in my nightstand before finding my stash of aspirin. He hesitantly places a bottle in my hand. Not feeling the energy to speak, I look away from him and moan. He lets out a groaning noise, but complies by snatching the bottle and getting a pill from it. I open my mouth dramatically, and he drops it in. He hands me a glass of water I hadn't noticed before and I take it from him. I gulp it down, ignoring the water spilling down my face, and when I'm done I set it down on the edge of my nightstand.

He looks at it, but doesn't move it. Instead he sits down on the side of my bed and sighs. My brother is a good deal older than me. Right now he should be in college or something, but instead he's not. I'm not quite sure what he's up to, but I know it's not what our mother wants for him. He's a genius though, I know that much. I don't think it's from our mother, exactly, but it the one thing we both share that isn't a parent. We're both smart. He could create something out of nothing. He's good with machines. I'm good with books.

He looks at me, finally, and then gives me a dorky, stupid smile. It makes me feel better, but then it doesn't. I haven't seen him for months. It's awkward, but there's a sense of security with knowing that he'll be here for me when I'm in trouble. I return the smile, slowly, feeling drained, and then glance noticeably at the door.

"Mom's gone shopping. Other guy's at work," Daniel says. I can tell he's not pleased with being here all by himself, but I'm grateful. If I'd had to wake up to an empty house I would have freaked out, probably screamed until someone came to check on me. Daniel knows this.

We sit in silence.

"What happened?" Daniel asks. I do the first thing I can think of, I shrug.

"I'm not sure," I say. "I can't remember anything."

"You hit your head pretty hard. Cut your arm. Hurt your side."

I shake my head. I know that, I can feel it. I'm in so much pain, it's hard not to throw up. "Why am I not in the hospital?"

Daniel doesn't miss a beat. "Because you were attacked."

I flinch and close my eyes. Flashes of the night before come back and my eyes begin to water. "Oh," I say. It's all I can manage to say. Words aren't my friend at the moment, so I slide my hand over and take Daniel's. "I, uh, could have, uh..." I stutter, and try to hold back a sob.

Daniel's hand grips mine tightly. "But you _didn't._ You're safe. You're with me." He shifts. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I'm right here." His thumb rubs over my hand, and I start crying.

"I've had a very shitty week," I say. It comes out as an angry, wailing babble. Daniel doesn't say anything. "I-I-I-" I almost died. I could have died. I try, but I can't say it. I don't want to say it. I don't want to believe it. Daniel stops rubbing my hand and his other hand smooth out my hair. I cry like a baby and Daniel acts like a good big brother should and he just lets me cry.

So after a good ten minutes of babbling and tears I quiet to a hiccuping sob. Daniel looks uncomfortable, but he doesn't leave, which I am thankful for. I wouldn't have been able to stand it if I'd been left alone.

"Has the aspirin kicked in yet?" Daniel asks.

"No," I respond, "it takes a while."

We're silent for a moment, and then I feel something drip onto my hand. I know, before I look to confirm it, that Daniel's crying. His face is rough with shame, and wet with tears. It breaks my heart.

"I'm so sorry," he cries. His head falls onto my stomach. I gasp in pain, but it's soft. He doesn't hear it. "I should have been there. I should have protected you. You were all alone. You must have been so scared. I haven't been here." I'm uncomfortable. That's all I can think of. My brother cries on me, his tears wetting my blanket, and his body's sobs shake the bed. I'm in pain, and he's making it worse, but it hurts more to see him cry.

Daniel never cries. He broods. He pouts. He get mad--he doesn't _cry_. It's frightening to see that I'm what makes him weep. I don't want him to be in pain. I don't want to be hurt. I don't want any of this. I don't want to see my brother cry over me. I don't even realize I'm petting him until he sits up and grabs my hand. I want to snatch it back, not let him touch me, but I don't. I let him hold it. It looks like it's the only thing keeping him from falling apart again.

He doesn't wipe his tears away.

"I'll be here from now on." He shakes my hand, as if trying to force his words into my body. "I have my own place. You'll stay there. Okay? I'm there all of the time. I can protect you. Please."

I don't know what to say to his proposal. It's awkward. There's a moment of silence. I don't know what to say. I don't want to live with him. He's been gone for years, I hardly know who he is anymore. I ask the first thing that pops to my head. "Did mother say anything...?"

"I'm asking you first." He finally wipes his eyes. "She can't protect you. If those people came after you again, she and that other guy would be powerless."

I scoff. "Daniel, you can possibly--"

"I'm not an expert at martial arts, but I can fight."

"Daniel, you're a nerd."

"I can fight! I'm your older brother I'm supposed to protect you! Look at you! Where have I been?" He slaps his hand to the side of his head and rubs at his hair. "I've been gone too long. Taking you with me is the least I can do." I shift, ready to protest, but he cuts me off before I can talk. "You're too young, too vounerable to be left here."

"Mother can protect me."

"You don't know who you're talking about," Daniel protests. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Daniel, you're not making any sense."

"The things I've seen--"

"What have you seen?" I hiss. Daniel didn't say anything. "What _have_ you been doing?" My face scrunches up. I look at Daniel with hatred, it's washed over me and I can't stop it. I rip my hand from his. "Is this your fault?" I guesture to myself. "Why are you suddenly to ghung ho at protecting me? You haven't been here for years. Are people after our family? Is it your fault!?"

"No," his voice is dark. I feel my strong composure crumple. "This was all you." My heart shatters. I didn't want this to be my fault. I want it to be his. I didn't want responsility. I didn't want to take the blame. "Just...at the wrong place at the wrong time."

I let out a cry, and fall back against the bed. "I'm just a kid," I cry. "I didn't mean any harm. I'm just a child. I can't do anything. I'm powerless. I'm weak. Why do they want me? What do they want with me? What could I possibly offer them?"

Daniel chuckles. It was dark noise that made my gut twist, more tears fell. Daniel babbles on, "These guys, they don't care about your age. Their boss, he wants you. I don't know why, but I will find out."

I shook my head. He was telling me nonsense. "What?"

"I want to protect you."

"Daniel," I snap. He snapped up to meet my gaze.

"What?" he asks.

"Who are you?"

He is silent. His face relaxes slightly, and he looks like a dork again. His shoulder goes down, he looks like he's trying to find the right words to sugarcoat the truth.

I ran out of patience. "Who are you?" I repeat. "Why do you keep talking about these people like you know about them, when the police don't even know? Why are you so willing to protect me?"

"You're my little sister," he says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I get that," I say, nodding. "But you have no power. Why...how do you know so much about these people?" He opens his mouth to speak, but I'm not done. I yell, "Who are you?! Where's my brother? The weak dumbass who left all those years ago! Where is he?"

Daniel didn't react to my yelling. His eyes look to the door, and he shrugs. "He grew up. He became someone useful." He adjusts his glasses, and then faces me again. His features soften further until he looked strikingly like our father. "I became a hero."

"A hero?" I echo.

He noddes. "And I'm going to protect you. You're going to live with me."

"I don't want to."

"I don't care."

"You haven't cared for a long time."

"That's not true." He puts his hand on my head. "I just haven't shown it enough." I try to slap it away, but he takes it back before I can. "I'll have you things moved for you. Tomorrow, you'll move in." He stands up.

"What about mother?" I yell.

As he walks to the door, he calls back, "I'll leave her note." He chuckles and then he's gone. My mind is a messy place, and I begin to cry again. I can't believe this is happening to me. Everything feels surreal. I call for him, but he doesn't come back. I try to stand, but it hurts too much. I'm powerless. I hate myself for a while, but when I finally stop crying, I can't help but feel grateful to Daniel. He's here when I need him, even if he's annoying about it.


End file.
